Blood of the Fold

Brogan's smile widened. "As you wish, Lord Rahl."

He began to draw his knife from the sheath at his belt. Instantly, one of the Mord-Sith had a red rod an inch from his face. He froze.

Looking up into her blue eyes, he feared to move. "A custom of my land, Lord Rahl. I meant no threat. I was going to surrender my knife to you, to show my intent to comply with your wishes and remain at the palace. It be a way of giving my word, a symbol of my sincerity. Would you permit me?"

The woman didn't take her blue eyes from his. "It's all right, Berdine," Lord Rahl said to the woman.

She withdrew, but only with great reluctance, and a venomous glare. Brogan slowly pulled the knife free and gently placed it, handle first, on the edge of the desk. Lord Rahl took the knife and set it aside.

"Thank you, General." Brogan held his hand out, palm up. "What's this?"

"The custom, Lord Rahl. In my land, the custom is that when you ceremonially surrender your knife, in order to avoid dishonor the person you surrender it to gives you a coin in return, silver for silver, as a symbolic act of good will and peace."

Lord Rahl, his eyes never leaving Brogan, considered it a moment, and at last leaned back and drew a silver coin from his pocket. He slid it across the desk. Brogan reached up, took the coin, and then slipped it into his coat pocket, but not before he saw the strike: the Palace of the Prophets.

Tobias bowed. "Thank you for honoring my customs, Lord Rahl. If there is nothing else, then I will retire to consider your words."

"As a matter of fact, there is one more thing. I heard that the Blood of the Fold holds no favor with magic." He leaned a little closer. "So why is it you have a sorceress with you?"

Brogan looked over at the squat figure beside him. "Lunetta? Why, she be my sister, Lord Rahl. She travels with me everywhere. I love her dearly, gift and all. If I were you, I would not put great weight to the words of Duchess Lumholtz. She be Keltish, and I hear they be thick with the Order."

"I have heard it elsewhere, too, from those who are not Keltish."

Brogan shrugged. He wished he could get his hands on that cook so he could cut out her wagging tongue.

"You have asked to be judged by your actions, and not by what others say of you. Would you deny me the same? What you hear is beyond my control, but my sister has the gift, and I would not have it otherwise."

Lord Rahl leaned back in his chair, his eyes as penetrating as ever. "There were Blood of the Fold among the Imperial Order's army that butchered those at Ebinissia."

"As well as D'Harans." Brogan lifted an eyebrow. "Those who attacked Ebinissia are all dead. The offer you made tonight is to be a fresh start, is it not? Everyone given the opportunity to make the commitment to your offer of peace?

Lord Rahl nodded slowly. "It is. One last thing, General. I have fought the Keeper's minions, and I will continue to do so. In doing battle with them, I have discovered that they don't need shadows to conceal them. They can be the last person you would expect, and worse, can do the Keeper's bidding without even realizing they are doing so."

Brogan bowed his head. "I, too, have heard it is so."

"Make sure the shadow you chase is not the one you cast."

Brogan frowned. He had heard a great many things from Lord Rahl that he did not like, but this was the first he did not understand. "I am very sure of the evil I pursue, Lord Rahl. Fear not for my safety."

Brogan began to turn away, but then halted and looked over his shoulder. "And may I offer my congratulations to you on your engagement to the Galean queen… I do believe I am becoming addled. I can't seem to keep names in my head. Forgive me. What was her name?

"Queen Kahlan Amnell."

Brogan bowed. "Of course. Kahlan Amnell. I will not forget it again."

CHAPTER 14

Richard stared at the tall mahogany door after it had closed. It was refreshing to see a person with such a guileless nature that she would come to the Confessors' Palace, among so many important, finely dressed people, wearing an outfit made of tattered patches of different-colored cloth. Everyone must have thought her mad. Richard looked down at his simple, filthy clothes. He wondered if they thought him mad, too. Maybe he was.

"Lord Rahl," Cara asked, "how did you know she was a sorceress?"

"She was shrouded in her Han. Couldn't you see it in her eyes?"

Her red leather creaked as she leaned a hip against the desk beside him. "We would know a woman to be a sorceress if she tried to use her power on us, but not before. What is Han?"

Richard wiped a hand across his face as he yawned. "Her inner power — the force of life. Her magic."

Cara shrugged. "You have magic, so you could see it. We could not"

His thumb stroked the hilt of his sword as he answered with an absent grunt.